Legendary
by asd'viers.dfga
Summary: Ryoga Hibiki was used to being alone; he had been for most of his life. Sometimes he even welcomed it. But this was loneliness of a different shade, one that no man would ever wish upon himself. A loneliness so complete, Ryoga knew the legend was alive.


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Legendary

By: Hibiki-kun

Chapter 1: I Am Alone

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Ryoga Hibiki was used to being alone; he had been for most of his life. Sometimes he even welcomed this loneliness as an escape from reality and from all his sorrow. But this was loneliness of a different shade, one that no man would ever wish upon himself. A loneliness so complete, Ryoga knew the legend was alive.

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Ryoga stared tiredly at his reflection in the mirror, placing his curing soap back in its place near the faucet and picking up his toothbrush. Seven years and he hadn't changed one bit. Apart from the widening of his jaw and the broadening of his shoulders, he was still the same old Hibiki; attractive, but in a rough, untamed sort of way. His pale integument showed the real fragility that had become the wanderer's soul. The coffee colored eyes still showed the same depth and emotion as before, when he was younger, before his life was turned upside down. He turned the handle for cold water only to realize that, due to the shower of cold water from the pipes below the sink; the pipes would need repaired…again. He grumbled as he made his way to the closet for a towel, wringing out the bottom of his shirt as best as he could.

"Well, at least I waited until after I bathed to brush my teeth, else I'd be drowning right now," He thought out loud as he wrapped the towel tightly around the pipe and analyzed the puddle that had formed on the floor of the furoba.

He did that a lot; talk to himself. It helped to fill the terrible void of hours. Or it aided in his gradual decline to eventual insanity. But he _had_ to talk to himself; if he didn't, he would forget the sound of his own voice, or even forget that he had one. Anything to drown out the hungry aching that surrounded him. Being less of a handyman than he was a rocket scientist, his attempt to soundproof the abandoned home was unsuccessful and resulted in plenty of time wasted searching for the right materials. Wouldn't it be great if he were a rocket scientist, though? Then he could fly to the moon in a ship made by him and leave this pathetic existence behind him. He smirked as he imagined how the scene would play out; him stepping out of the ship to find that even the moon, his fantasy safe haven, was infested with…them.

"Yep, that's definitely how it would happen," Ryoga mumbled, irony thick in his tone. _The way my life goes, of course I would end up in this position._

As he exited the furoba into the hallway, Ryoga walked past several photographs hanging on the wall. Most of them, or at least the ones that he hadn't flipped over, were of two different brunette girls, with similar features but clearly different personalities, which was displayed by through their expressions. There was one photograph, however, the Ryoga made a point to hesitate before everyday, giving a little nod in honor of the former inhabitants of the house. In the beginning, had had completely turned and given his full attention to the portrait as he bowed to the family in gratuitous honor. Now, he barely spared a side-long glance at the picture. That was all he could risk, he didn't want to meet those beautiful chocolate eyes and be once more reminded that he was alone, that his past was gone, that his present was meaningless, and that he had no future. He didn't want to remember the girl he had failed to save. There was already enough on his shoulders as it was and he did not cope well under pressure. Hell, he could barely even speak her name before going into hysterics.

So he had to look forward, and continue down the hallway to the kitchen, where his morning coffee pot sat expectantly waiting for him. When he was an adolescent, he hated the stuff. It was always so bitter and took too long to make. Now he couldn't get enough of it. Coffee brought him out of his dreamy state, a state that he in particularly was not eager to enter when he prepared for bed at night. The thing about his dreams was that they had an unnerving way of clinging to the present, and his most recent past horrors, so that he relived them nearly every night. Dreaming was no getaway for him. If anything, it provided a more solid reality than the one in his waking hours, though the reality he participated in was anything but fictitious. Spooning in sugar and creamer, Ryoga watched as the creamer made swirling, milky clouds in his coffee. He always took notice of things like that.

As he kneeled at the kokatsu table, his mind made a mental checklist of all the errands he had to run that day:

_Run by Cat Café, get soap._

_Stop at grocery store for food._

_Inspect windows, board up if necessary._

"What else? That's right, repair the sink also," He finished his coffee in a giant gulp and stood, parting the musty curtains over the kitchen window with the back of his hand. It was the only window he hadn't needed to nail shut with plywood because it faced the back of the house, which was surrounded by a tall fence, garnished with a fish net that covered the entire sky from one fence wall to another. "Dammit."

He watched the surface of the koi pond ripple into a million different circles as rain fell violently from the ominous clouds. Of course, Ryoga had contemptible feelings towards the rain, but it wasn't due to his curse so much any longer. The curse curing soap that he consistently took from the Cat Café reassured him that he would stay human for at least 48 hours. They had that soap stockpiled in there, billions of boxes piled up in the gigantic back room; Shampoo and Cologne must've made sure to buy out the entire supply of China. He remembered the last time he had been caught out in the rain before he discovered the soap and shivered. He remembered looking up at the world from a piglet's perspective as the sky slowly darkened and he heard them, emerging from the forsaken homes around him as he searched for a place to hide. That situation had given him nightmares that would last him the rest of his life; crouching in the crawl space of an unknown house, watching their ankles shuffle past him as he tried to sleep in vain. No, rain meant clouds, and clouds meant that he could not use the sun to judge how long his period of grace would last. With a growl, he threw the curtain back across the window, feeling anger rise up in him like a tsunami.

_Anger at whom?_ A voice in his mind asked him in a tone similar to a mother scolding her child. He gripped his head in his hands, tufts of his jet black hair poking out between his fingers. _You can't blame all your problems on him._

"Yes, I can," He stated through clenched, pointed teeth and shut his amber eyes tightly. Then, in a whisper; "Everything is his fault."

Thinking about his old rival was probably one of the most unintelligent things he could do in the emotional state he was in, because at length, the thought of his childhood rival was directly linked to the one he loved, the woman he had neglected to rescue, the girl in the photograph and the reason why he had turned the other pictures over. The girl, or woman, the last time he had seen her, with the navy hair outlining her subtle countenance and soft sepia orbs that had stolen his heart. That boy was directly associated with Akane. At twenty-three, he wasn't naïve enough to believe that Akane had returned his feelings; he learned, shortly before the epidemic, that Akane thought of him as nothing more than a sweet, friendly, eccentric guy. Nothing more than her friend. As he rolled the words over in his mind for the thousandth time, a heart-wrenching sob grasped his body and he kneeled on the floor, feeling the hot tears squeeze out of him and he watched as they plopped onto the wooden floor in tiny, damp dots. He really loved her; the idea of never seeing her again tore at his soul viciously. If he could just see her again, he would tell her that he didn't care that she didn't return his feelings and that he was never going to let her go away again. That she would never leave his sight again if he could help it. He would apologize for not arriving at her home in time to save her, in time to salvage the family that he knew was falling apart in the wake of the illness that was infecting the world. But he would never see her again. Ever. He would never get his chance to rectify the circumstances he knew he could've prevented. It made him feel so helpless.

Ryoga collapsed even farther onto the floor, the sobs wracking his entire body erratically. It was never supposed to happen this way, but then again, fate had a funny, sadistic way of making everything you didn't want to happen a reality. At least, that's the way it always was in Ryoga Hibiki's case. The poor lost boy's sobs eventually quieted to silent weeping as he listened to the calming rain splash against the roof. Suddenly, he felt like crawling back into bed and staying there forever. Just falling back asleep and never waking back up seemed like the most acceptable resolution. But he couldn't. He had to stay alive, for her.

That was one promise that he was determined to keep, if only to himself.

"Well, this day's shot to hell," He whimpered and stood slowly, rubbing his puffy, red eyes and hating himself for showing so much emotion. Who cared though? There was no one around to witness this break down of Ryoga, the usually strong and vengeful martial artist.

He shook his head rapidly at his display of such weakness and hesitated for a moment before the window, cursing the rain and his situation and, finally, himself, for falling apart so easily. Adjusting the yellow bandana wrapped around his head, he made his way to the hallway to fully appreciate the family portrait that he had purposefully avoided any time he passed through the hall. He bowed deeply, even going as far as to kneel and place his hands on the floor in front of him, before asking his forgiveness and vowing that he would protect the grand abode.

When he was satisfied with his monologue to the Tendo family portrait, he stood in the hallway for a long time, looking at the picture but not really seeing; colors were blurring together as Ryoga's eyes remained open for an unnatural amount of time. Then he realized that there was nothing more he wanted to do right now than to run through the most complicated kata he knew before venturing out into the downpour towards the deserted dojo.

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Author's Note: Alright, so this is my first Ranma 1/2 fanfiction! Hopefully I get all the details right, because I just recently discovered it through my boyfriend's DVDs and have yet to see the whole anime, let alone read the entire manga. Please bear with me!

Also: I've seen this done so many times before with other shows, but they were always parodies of the movie instead of the book, which, in my opinion, is better than the movie by astronomical comparison. See if you can guess what book I received my inspiration from; not that it isn't kinda obvious if you've read the novel, but just for fun...humor me!

-Hibiki-kun


End file.
